


We Can Be Lost Together

by Rogueangelll



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, 19th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Angst, Blasphemy, Canon-Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Gay homophobes, Hamilton Just wants love, Laurens too, M/M, Non-canon but, Not an actual event but probably happened at some point tbh, Not the musical - Freeform, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religion, period-typical SADNESS, period-typical religion tbh, questioning God, ”sodomy”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogueangelll/pseuds/Rogueangelll
Summary: Hamilton and Laurens get separated from their fellow soldiers during a scrimmage; they get lost in the snow storm, forcing them to talk some things out.





	We Can Be Lost Together

It was a harsh winter when Washington's men were forced to flee north due to the numerous British victories in the colonies.  Scrimmages in New York turned to the burning of farmer's homes and crops down south, as if the harsh winter and the disease wasn't bad enough.  After losing so many to the harsh winter in Valley Forge, many were anxious for this winter.  Alas, they had no other options.  And so north they went, suffering depressed soldiers trudging behind one another.  The trek was a trying one, making even the bravest of men quiver as the small group, led by Major General Lafayette, marched on a conquest towards Canada.  The rest of Washington's men stayed behind.

"Oi, Ham, how're you holding up?"  asked a shivering soldier by the name of Meade.  Hamilton glanced up in response, trying his best to warm himself by creating friction between his hands.  He blew on them and watched his breath turn to vapor.

"Cold," Hamilton muttered.  Laurens, who was trudging on the other side of him, let out a small laugh.

"Aren't we all?"  Meade complained.  He moved faster to catch up with Lafayette, who rode his starving steed at a steady pace.

Laurens glanced down at Hamilton.  "Really, how are you holding up?  Besides the chills, of course."

"Surprisingly... quite well," Hamilton shrugged a bit, still making futile attempts at heat.  "If you were to push aside the temperature and the marching bells of death, then I am quite well.  And you?"

"...Well as always."

"That's good."

"Mhm," Laurens paused and glanced down at Hamilton's musket, barely being supported in his arms properly.  "You really should hold that with care, Alexander.  It would be unfortunate for it to fire unnecessarily and reveal our—"

"It has no ammo, my Dear Laurens, you may be at ease."

"Right.  Apologies," he huffed.  He glanced off again and at Lafayette, who continued to ride slowly.  "How many nights have we walked this journey, do you suppose?"

"About a week, perhaps.  We're quickly running out of supplies," Hamilton complained with a sigh, looking up to feel the urge to lean his body against his companion's.  He could only think of how warm his body must be, how relieving his muscles would feel to the touch of his fingertips.  The sin was killing Hamilton but he couldn't help himself.

"Yes, and Washington has opposed this conquest anyway. Nevertheless..."

"...Gates insisted," he finished. "My word, this whole conquest is a pile of cow's shit."

"Lord, I know. But don't you let Gates or any other men hear your foul mouth."

"I could care less at this point. You know this damned cold will be the end of us, Gates knows we'll freeze to death before we have a chance to turn around, and Washington knew this whole damned time that this conquest was a failure from the start! It's a goddamned fool's errand and for all we know, they could just be trying to get rid of us to make room for the rest of the men outside of Philadelphia."

"Shh," Laurens hushed him quickly with a glare. "Look, Alexander, I have total confidence that this is utter shit. Regardless, we are here now and cannot change history nor can we turn back time. You would do me a favor to quit conspiring against our general. Please."

"Right, I know this, Laurens. I just..." he trailed off and Laurens stayed silent, expectantly awaiting an answer. He was about to open his mouth to inquire when a blur of red was seen beyond the trees. 

A sudden burst of anxious shouts from soldiers rang out, the small American troop realizing now that they were under attack. Men scattered to the sides— Hamilton dashed to the opposite direction of where their group was moving, which happened to be toward (though east of) the British attackers. Startled, Laurens ran after him. 

"Alex!" he called after worriedly.  He trailed behind Hamilton, not noticing the retreat of the other men.  

Hamilton nearly ran into a redcoat, swiftly turning on his heel and dodging, kicking his foot out beneath the soldier.  When the soldier had fallen, Hamilton then ran on, dashing eastwards into the woods with Laurens hot on his trail.  Through trees he swerved and with a final boost he jumped forward, landing into the snow.  Laurens fell on top of him with a heavy pant.  They had lost the redcoats but at the same time lost themselves.

"Alexander, what the hell was that?!"  Laurens growled, grabbing his arm.  The redhead looked up at him with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes, being out of breath and freezing.  "We're lost, now.  Goddammit..."

"I-I apologize," Hamilton whispered quickly, still in the snow as Laurens stood.  He took Laurens' gloved hand to pull himself up.  "I hadn't meant for this to happen, I swear by you, I was in shock a-and I ran and I—"

"Stop, it— it's quite alright.  Alas, we must find our way back before we..."

"—Freeze," Hamilton finished. 

"Let us go, then.  Quickly."  

So, they began to trudge through the powder-like snow, the cold wind blowing between the trees.  Hamilton felt like he was going to collapse.

"John, we must be going in circles... I cannot see anything," Hamilton whispered just as it began to snow.  It had started steadily at first but soon, neither could see anything and it stung their cheeks, disabling them.  Laurens caught Hamilton in his arms just as he began to collapse.

"No, no, no, Alexander," Laurens said hurriedly, pulling him close and trying to yank him up to his feet.  "Alex!"

"I am so cold," he mumbled weakly.  Hamilton tried his best to continued moving forward as he leaned on Laurens.  Several minutes more they came across a small wood structure, Laurens happily dragging Hamilton the last few meters.

Laurens opened the door to the shack with a sigh, pulling in his friend and laying him down against the wall.  He closed the door and watched the stray snowflakes as they swirled through the cracks of the wood.  There was no furniture or supplies (expect a worn, broken-looking fishing rod), but there was a stone fireplace and some chopped wood in the corner— luckily with a blanket over it, keeping it dry.  Laurens sighed in relief and pulled the blanket off. 

He sprinkled a scarce amount of gunpowder onto the fire he was building, lighting it by using his revolver.  It took several shots (and pained groans from Hamilton due to the loud noise) but it sparked.  After working at it he finally got a steady fire.  He felt his lips curl into a smile as he beckoned Hamilton closer and wrapped the blanket around him.

"Damn... I thank you so greatly," Hamilton hummed faintly as he laid his head on Laurens' shoulder.  Laurens let out a small startled sound and took off his gloves, handing them off to the shorter man.  Hamilton whispered, "I won't accept those."

"You're frail and frozen to the bone, Alexander," Laurens reasoned.  He took both of Hamilton's bare hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over his chill knuckles before insisting the gloves to him.  "Please."

Hamilton debated this in his mind but eventually took Laurens' gloves, though quite reluctantly. Laurens then wrapped the blanket around Hamilton and urged him to lay down, Hamilton closest the the fire. Laurens laid on the other side of him.

After a while of laying still, warming up, Hamilton whispered: "Laurens?"

"Yes?" he answered.

"Do you ever wonder if— if the two of us could run away?"

"You mean... leave the army?"

"No. Well, I suppose, yes. But I mean farther than that. Just... run away from all of this. This life, these people, the churches— what are you doing?" he asked when Laurens put the back of his hand to his forehead.

"Checking to see if you've come down with a fever," he pulled his hand away, but Hamilton quickly grabbed it and held it in place against his cheek. "You must be mad, Alexander, to ever believe that we could go out somewhere and just..."

"Be happy?"

"...no.  I— yes. That. I cannot simply leave and neither can you. You have so much potential and there are so many great things for you to do."

"Oh, come on now.  You don't really believe that.  If anything, I'd choose you over a legacy any day..."

"Now I'm truly worried you have a fever.  You don't really mean that.  Do you feel alright?"

Hamilton huffed, tucking his arms in closer.  He kept holding Laurens' hand in place on his cheek.  "I feel fine.  I am simply cold.  Why do you doubt me?  I would drop everything in a second," he paused, his arms wrapping around Laurens and pulling himself closer, then whispered, "just for you.  You say the word and we can run away together."

"Alexander..."

"John, do you not hear the sincerity in my voice?  We— we could leave.  Just live without anybody else, start a new life—"

"Alexander, stop," he demanded, pulling away and sitting up.  A harsh wind blew over the small fishing shack and the two shivered.  "I wish to take no part in fantasies.  There is nothing we can do, you know that. These whims are no more than a sinful pigment of your imagination."

While Hamilton was, at first, withdrawn, he whispered, "Do not lie. It is on your mind as well. I should not have such a sound in my ear, dear John. You cannot expect me to—" he inhaled, exhaled, "not think of such things. While it may seem fantasy to you, I wish to inform you that it is a plaguing desire for me."

"It pains me."

"And you are hurting me by dismissing it!" Hamilton argued, his hand going to Laurens' arm. He grabbed on desperately and pulled himself closer, burying his face in his chest. "...I love you so dearly, J. And it hurts me to think about what should happen if one of us were to— and then there's this expectancy for us to go off, find nice women and get married, but say we do not do so. Say that we rebel against that mundane life and protest simply by leaving? Nobody even has to know."

"That is not how it works," Laurens sat up. 

Hamilton pulled himself up after him, almost as if he was begging him not to leave. Words could not form in his mouth as a sudden anxiety plagued him— a fear that Laurens would be angry at this and leave, that he would take his gloves and trudge through the storm himself, leaving Hamilton alone to wither. 

"Alex, whatever is the matter now?" Laurens asked with a hint of exasperation. Though, he wrapped his arms around Hamilton's midsection and held him in his arms.

"Don't leave."

"There's a damned blizzard outside, why would I do that?"

"...I wish we could live forever as bachelors together, you know, a nice place in the city, pretending to be roommates or whatever shit we may make up."

Laurens just lowered his head. There never had been a right time to tell Hamilton of his wife, and now was not a time he was willing to break that news. So, he pushed away the fantasies. "I wish to do so as well. But people are suspicious, Hamilton. People are judgmental. There's no curing their righteous hate."

"How about for now, then? While we wait out this snow, could we just pretend that it worked like that?"

"...Alright," Laurens whispered. He pulled Hamilton closer, between his legs, as they sat by the fire. 

Hamilton laid his head on Laurens' shoulder and hugged on to his thin middle. They just sat there in silence, listening to the campfire crackle for what felt like minutes but had really been hours. The storm began to let up a little, but it was still snowing lightly.

The sun shone through the cracks in the walls.

"John?" Hamilton stirred, sitting up a bit. He shivered and rubbed his arms, glancing down at Laurens. "J...?"

Laurens stayed unmoving. Hamilton grew slightly panicked for a second but saw as Laurens' chest moved slowly up and then back down as he breathed. His hand twitched and he turned a little.

Hamilton couldn't help his anxiety for Laurens' well-being. And to watch another person he loves die in their sleep would be...

"John," Hamilton whispered again, shaking his arm. The fire had long gone out as they had fallen asleep and spent the night trying to salvage body heat in one another's embrace.

Laurens shifted again and groaned lightly, eyes slowly opening. "What is it, Alex?"

"'Tis morning, my dear," Hamilton sighed in relief, shivering. He pulled his coat tighter and lidded his eyes at Laurens as he rose to sit up.

"Morning... we made it through the night."

"Indeed."

"Fire's out."

"Indeed."

"It's cold."

Hamilton shook his head, lips curled as he scoffed an amused laugh. He was shivering quite a bit from the cold. "'Tis indeed cold, my dear."

"You look so cold... we should find our way back to camp, get you by the campfire, perhaps some hot water might even be in our interest.  Washington might... might even let us wander into town," Laurens stuttered just slightly and regained his words, "that would be nice.  We could find an inn, rest up in warmth..."

"We can rest up in warmth here," Hamilton mumbled.  He reached up with a shaking hand, touched the side of Laurens' face, and sighed.  Laurens slowly held onto the back of Hamilton's neck and pulled him into a kiss.  Hamilton, slightly startled, pulled away.

"What is it?"

"I-I'm sorry," Hamilton laughed at himself, taking Laurens' frigid hands in his own gloved ones.  "My, God.  You're as cold as snowfall.  Please, take your gloves back."

"No, thank you.  You keep them."

"What?  Take them."

"No, they're a gift," Laurens whispered.  He held tightly onto Hamilton's palms.  "You cannot return a gift."

"John..."

"I insist."

"Insist all you want, John.  But I am not keeping these."

Laurens sighed and guided Hamilton into another kiss.  It was almost hesitant but Hamilton couldn't help himself.  He pressed his gloves hands against Laurens' cheeks and cupped the taller man's face, feeling a rush from the kiss and smiling against his lips.  In return, Laurens pulled away to kiss Hamilton's temple.

"Keep them," Laurens whispered with a heavy breath that swirled into vapor between his and Hamilton's lips.  "For me, please, keep them.  I will commission for new ones soon."

"Damn you," Hamilton shook his head.  

"It's cold.  We should head back go camp as it has stopped snowing by now."

"No.  Let's find some firewood."

"Alex, it's all wet anyway, and we need to get back to camp!"

"I'm at the end of my sanity in camp, J!  I can feel myself deteriorating every time Washington shouts and every time some bumbling idiot accidentally fires his gun!  I cannot stand it much longer!"

Laurens, eyebrows knit together as he for on his knees now, questioned, "So are you suggesting we go rogue?  Dishonor ourselves?"

"I am suggesting that my demise is near, should we go back today.  We could stay one more day, sleep here and be together in a dreamlike state for just one more night!  Please, I wish to feel your love, my Laurens," Hamilton's voice quieted, eyes becoming teary and stinging, "I cannot stand pretending not to want you.  I need you, John.  I need you.  Please, don't leave yet.  Please."

Laurens, who now realized the state Hamilton was in, just sighed.  More hot vapor in the cold air.  

"You're acting flu-like.  I'm worried for you."

"I'm not sick!  We're not sick," Hamilton clarified quickly.  He wiped his eyes.  "We don't need to be sick.  I love you.  I love you, I love you, I love you."

"You're ill."

"I am not!  What do I have to do to get you to understand this?!  What is it that will convince you, John Laurens?  How the hell can a man, smart as you are, be so goddamn deaf?!  I," Hamilton slowed his words and annunciated carefully, hands groping Laurens' dark blue coat, "love you.  I love you."  He leaned forward and kissed Laurens. "Why are you dumb to my affection?"

"It—it's not real," Laurens reasoned. 

"Why not?"

"No matter how much we want it to be, it's nothing but a sinful façade. We're nothing but sodomites. We can never love one another like a man and a woman."

"Why not?!" Hamilton emphasized. "Why can't we?"

"It's the law, it's in the scripture."

"But why is it there?"

"God's word—"

"To hell with God's damned word!" Hamilton yelled. Laurens, startled, raised his open hand, but drew back quickly when he realized what impulse had caused him to do. 

"I will not tolerate your blasphemy, Alex."

"Blasphemy?! Ah, yes! But I believe, my dear Laurens, 'tis blasphemous to lie to Him about what you know you feel. I know I love you. Therefore I shan't lie to God Himself and say that I do not. Perhaps it is said that He does not agree, but He never said so Himself, did He?"

Flustered by Hamilton's stubbornness, Laurens argued, "His word was given to—"

Hamilton cut him off. "—To people that we have no proof ever existed in the first place. Pardon me for not believing these things, but I think that God would not condemn something that feels so right."

"It doesn't feel right!"

"Yes, it does! Has it ever felt right with a woman, John? Have you ever felt such a rush from a female touching you as I do? Her lips, did they feel just as mine do? Her body, were you indulged in the thought of a woman opposed to me? Or does this feel good?"

"It— it's sin."

"I asked you a question; answer. Do you enjoy kissing me?"

Laurens stayed silent for a moment. "...Yes."

"Do you enjoy embracing me?"

"Alex..."

"Well, John? Do you? Do you get a pang of desire in your heart when you think of me? Do you feel lonely when I'm not in the room? Do you want me, wish a woman could satisfy your desires as I do?"

"Alexander..." Laurens trailed off, eyes focused on Hamilton's lips. He felt overwhelmed and tired and angry, wishing only to disappear right then and never return. Had Laurens been able to leave, he wouldn't have given staying another thought. But, he still had to answer. Hamilton clearly was no longer accepting the silence. "I do."

"John?" It was Hamilton's turn to be distant. "Do you truly wish I was a woman?"

"I don't know."

Hamilton fell silent all over again. As he had once been the accuser, he was now the accused. Laurens was still on trial but Hamilton was an accessory. He was there; a part of the sin; a part of the pains and desire; a part of a life that he never wanted to be a part of. Indeed it would be easier if he was simply a woman, or if Laurens was a woman, but Hamilton knew for a fact that neither of them truly wanted that. Hamilton wanted Laurens; he wanted to be his and only his forever, no matter how frightening a life it would bring them to. 

"John?" he spoke up again. 

"...Yes?"

"Are you only a part of this because of me?" He paused. "Do you only stay alive because I ask of you?"

Laurens, once again, whispered, "I don't know."

"I don't want to be like this. I never asked..."

"I know."

"It would be so much easier..."

"I know."

Hamilton sighed and grabbed onto Laurens. He buried his face in his chest. Laurens slowly pulled him into an embrace. Hamilton murmured, "I believe this is real, no matter how wrong it might be. I love you."

"...Okay."

"Don't leave."

"We can go back 'morrow morning." A pause. "Do you still wish to stay another day?"

"Yes," Hamilton replied quickly, "Thank you."

"Alexander?"

"Yes?"

"...I love you, too."


End file.
